


The Wolves Come Circling

by SilverInk



Series: Small Talk [2]
Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I love how that's actually a tag, M/M, Morse is emotional, Nightmares, Sleepy Cuddles, Tea, and George is a v concerned boyfriend, mentions of The Tiger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 08:21:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14280861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverInk/pseuds/SilverInk
Summary: A small thing inspired by the conversation Trewlove & Morse had in ICARUS.Set sometime after Small Talk.





	The Wolves Come Circling

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in too deep guys afgdsgdghf I got the idea for this ship & it's all I'm writing abt now!! I'm sure I'll slow down... eventually... so if you're getting annoyed, don't worry XD

“A career won’t hold you at three in the morning when the wolves come circling,” he’d told Trewlove, and as he said it, he’d thought of George. Sweet, caring George, would take care of him whenever he needed it, Morse was sure.

So weeks later, when Morse woke in the middle of the night to the sound of his own desperate shouts, the fresh memory of the tiger’s powerful claws scoring over his chest imprinted on his mind, he was relieved to feel familiar hands on his arms and his chest, and quickly started to feel if not calm then slightly less panicked. He’d been hot and sweating a moment ago, but now he was chilled, and he couldn’t stop shaking. He let out a breath sharply, and it sounded more like a sob.

“Morse? Hey, hey, it’s alright, it wasn't real. You’re safe,” George whispered to him, rubbing his back, and Morse closed his eyes, trying to stop shaking.

“You're alright, Morse, I'm here…”

Alright was about the last thing he felt at the moment, but George’s words were comforting. He felt incredibly fragile, like he might break, nearly overwhelmed with emotion and the terror of the dream, and he pressed as close as he could to the other man, burying his face in George’s shoulder and clinging to the fabric of his shirt. His chest ached. Tears burned in his eyes, and he tried to stay focused on his breathing, and on the feeling of George’s fingers carding gently through his hair.

After several minutes of just lying there in George’s arms, breathing deeply and listening to him murmuring sweet nothings in Morse’s ear, Morse started to feel significantly calmer. He pulled back just enough to see George’s face, and it was full of concerned sympathy.

“Feeling alright?” George’s voice was soft.

Morse nodded. “Yes, I’m much better now.” He winced internally at how rough and scratchy his voice sounded.

“Do you want some tea?” George asked, and Morse really didn’t think he’d be able to get back to sleep any time soon after that, so he nodded again. Tea would be good.

Running a hand lightly over Morse’s bare arm, George stood up and made his way over to the kitchen. Morse followed after a moment, on legs that still weren’t quite steady. While the water was boiling, George turned back to Morse and wrapped his arms around his waist, eyes searching Morse’s face. Suddenly embarrassed and a little irritated with himself, Morse looked away, heat creeping across his face.

“Hey, _hey_ , look at me.” George murmured, shaking his shoulder a little, and then putting gentle fingers under Morse’s chin and tipping his head up, until Morse finally met his eyes.

“You’ve got no reason to be ashamed, love. I understand.” His eyes were serious, and full of so much affection. The hand on Morse’s chin moved to his cheek, and Morse took a deep breath, then nodded. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, and leaned up to press his lips against George’s. George pulled Morse almost flush against his body as he kissed back tenderly but insistently, and Morse’s chest felt full, this time in a far more pleasant way. He felt so supported with George’s arms around him, and he wrapped his own arms around George’s shoulders and continued to kiss him. Soon the kettle started to boil, and George gave a muffled half-laugh when Morse just held on tighter and didn’t let him pull away, both of them grinning into the kiss, until Morse finally relented and let him go.

George poured tea for both of them, and Morse wrapped both hands around his mug to warm them up, leaning back against the counter behind him. With his own mug in hand, George leaned on the counter too and rubbed circles into Morse’s shoulder with his free hand. Morse hummed and leaned into the touch, moving closer to rest his head on George’s shoulder, and George kissed the top of his head softly.

“Do you want to talk about it at all?” George asked. “The dream, that is?”

Morse took a moment to sip his tea before answering, and George’s arm slipped around his waist again. Then he told George about the tiger, and how close it had come to killing him, and how _terrifying_ it was, being on the other end of such a powerful force, one that couldn’t even be reasoned with. He shivered at the memory, and George tightened his arm around Morse.

“I’d heard about that case a little from Jim,” George said. “But he didn’t say how much it’d affected you, or that you were so involved.” 

Morse hadn’t told anyone else how badly shaken he’d been, except Thursday briefly...

“He didn’t know it got to me like this.”

There was a pause before George asked, “Have you never talked to anyone about this?” 

His concern was almost too much, and Morse swallowed hard around the lump in his throat as he shook his head. Then, “I—I talked to Thursday the once,” he managed. “But…”

“Not since then?” George asked cautiously. Then he sighed as Morse shook his head. “Morse...”

Kisses were pressed into his hair, and on his cheeks and forehead, and George held him even closer. “You know you can talk to me about it if you need to, right?”

Tears were pricking at Morse’s eyes again now, and he blinked them back furiously. He hid his face against the curve of George’s neck and nodded, unable to speak. They just stood like that for a moment, and then when Morse pulled back to see George’s face, George brushed away a strand of Morse’s hair that had fallen into his eyes.

“You’re wonderful, George,” Morse murmured. “Thank you.”

George grinned at him. “It's no problem. You’re pretty wonderful yourself.” And Morse grinned back, face flushing a little.

They finished their tea, and by then Morse was tired and yawning, memories of the nightmare fading already. With as small as their shared bed was, closeness was a necessity, and with his head on George’s chest and the steady, comforting beat of his heart in his ear, a peaceful, undisturbed sleep found Morse quickly. And in the morning, he woke feeling well-rested and energetic.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't just let a perfect, angsty, hurt/comfort-y conversation like that go unwritten... :D
> 
> Also I'm apparently not done writing abt these two yet so if anyone has anything else they'd like to see please lmk!!


End file.
